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a beautiful, traditional garden under all that growth and I want to free it.’

      ‘That...that’s what someone else said about it,’ he said, tight-lipped, not meeting her eyes.

      ‘I agree with that person one hundred per cent,’ she said, not sure what else to say. Who shared her views on the garden restoration?

      Her first thought was Declan had talked to another gardener. Which, of course, he had every right to do. But the flash of pain that momentarily tightened his face led her to think it might be more personal. Whatever it might be, it was none of her business. She just wanted to work in that garden.

      He leaned back in his sofa, though he looked anything but relaxed. He crossed one long, black-jeans-clad leg over the other, then uncrossed it. ‘Tell me about your qualifications for the job,’ he said.

      ‘I have a degree in horticultural science from Melbourne University. More importantly, I have loads of experience working in both public and private gardens. When I lived in Victoria I was also lucky enough to work with some of the big commercial nurseries. I ran my own one-woman business for a while, too.’

      ‘You’re from Melbourne?’

      She shook her head. ‘No. I lived most of my life in the Blue Mountains area.’ Her grandmother had given refuge to her, her sister and her mother in the mountain village of Blackheath, some two hours west of Sydney, when her father had destroyed their family. ‘I went down south to Melbourne for university. Then I stayed. They don’t call Victoria “The Garden State” for nothing. I loved working there.’

      ‘What brought you back?’ He didn’t sound as though he was actually interested in her replies. Just going through the motions expected of a prospective employer. Maybe she already had the job.

      ‘Family,’ she said. It was only half a lie. No need to elaborate on the humiliation dished out to her by Steve that had sent her fleeing to Sydney to live with her sister.

      ‘Do you have references?’

      ‘Glowing references,’ she was unable to resist boasting.

      ‘I’ll expect to see them.’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘What’s your quote for the work on the garden?’

      ‘A lot depends on what I find in there.’

      She’d been peering over the fence for weeks and knew exactly what she’d do in the front of the garden. The back was unknown, but she guessed it was in the same overgrown state. ‘I can give you a rough estimate now, but I have to include a twenty per cent variation to cover surprises. As well as include an allowance for services like plumbing and stonemasonry.’

      ‘So?’

      She quoted him a figure that erred on the low side—but she desperately wanted to work on this garden.

      ‘Sounds reasonable. When can you start?’

      ‘I have a full-time job. But I can work all weekend and—’

      The scowl returned, darkening his features and those intense indigo eyes. ‘That’s not good enough. I want this done quickly so I can get these people off my back.’

      ‘Well, I—’

      ‘Quit your job,’ he said. ‘I’ll double the amount you quoted.’

      Shelley was too stunned to speak. That kind of money would make an immense difference to her plans for her future. And the job could be over in around two months.

      He must have taken her silence as hesitation. ‘I’ll triple it,’ he said.

      She swallowed hard in disbelief. ‘I...I didn’t mean...’ she stuttered.

      ‘That’s my final offer. It should more than make up for you leaving your employer.’

      ‘It should. It does. Okay. I accept.’ She couldn’t stop the excitement from bubbling into her voice.

      She wasn’t happy with the job at the garden design company. And she was bored. The company seemed to put in variants of the same, ultra-fashionable garden no matter the site. Which was what the clients seemed to want but she found deathly dull. ‘I’m on contract but I have to give a week’s notice.’

      Aren’t you being rash? She could hear her sister’s voice in her head. You know nothing about this guy.

      ‘If you can start earlier, that would be good,’ he said. ‘Once I’ve made my mind up to do something I want it done immediately.’

       Tell him you’ll consider it.

      Shelley took a deep, steadying breath. ‘I would love to get started on your garden as soon as I can. I’ll work seven days a week if needed to get it ready for spring.’

      ‘Good.’ He held up his hand. ‘Just one thing. I don’t want anyone but you working on the garden.’

      ‘I’m not sure what you mean?’

      ‘I value my privacy. I don’t want teams of workmen tramping around my place. Just you.’

      She nodded. ‘I understand.’ Though she didn’t really. ‘I’m strong—’

      ‘I can see that,’ he said with narrowed eyes.

      Some men made ‘strong’ into an insult, felt threatened by her physical strength. Was she imagining a note of admiration in Declan’s voice? A compliment even?

      ‘But I might need help with some of the bigger jobs,’ she said. ‘If I have to take out one of those trees, it’s not a one-person task. I have to consider my safety. That...that will be an extra cost, too. But I know reliable contractors who won’t rip us off.’

      Us. She’d said us. How stupid. She normally worked in close consultation with a client. Back in Victoria, where she’d worked up until she’d arrived back in New South Wales three months ago, she actually numbered satisfied clients among her friends. But she had a feeling that might not be the case with this particular client.

      There would be no us in this working relationship. She sensed it would be a strict matter of employer and employee. Him in the house, her outside in the garden.

      He paused. ‘Point taken. But I want any extra people to be in and out of here as quickly as possible. And never inside the house.’

      ‘Of course.’

      Declan got up from the sofa and towered above her. He was at least six foot three, she figured. When she rose to her feet she still had to look up to him, a novel experience for her.

      ‘We’re done here,’ he said. ‘You let me know when you can start. Text me your details, I’ll confirm our arrangement. And set up a payment transfer for your bank.’ Again came that not-quite-there smile that lifted just one corner of his mouth. Was he out of practice? Or was he just naturally grumpy?

      But it did much to soothe her underlying qualms about giving up her job with a reputable company to work for this man. She hadn’t even asked about a payment schedule. For him to suggest it was a good sign. A gardener often had to work on trust. After all, she could hardly take back the work she’d done in a garden if the client didn’t pay. Though there were methods involving quick-acting herbicides that could be employed for purposes of pay back—not that she had ever gone there.

      ‘Before I go,’ she said, ‘is there anyone else I need to talk to about the work in the garden? I... I mean, might your...your wife want input into the way things are done?’ Where was Mrs Grant? She’d learned to assume that a man was married, even if he never admitted to it.

      His eyes were bleak, his voice contained when he finally replied. ‘I don’t have a wife. You will answer only to me.’

      She stifled a swear word under her breath. Wished she could breathe back the question. It wasn’t

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